


Fight or Flight

by thewayshedreamed



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Military AU, NESSIAN AU, nessian fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27000613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewayshedreamed/pseuds/thewayshedreamed
Summary: This is a Nessian military au where Cassian is a flight commander with the Air Force, and Nesta is an intelligence officer on the same base.Prompt— “I almost lost you.” for Nessian! Prompt is in bold within the post.
Relationships: Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Kudos: 38





	Fight or Flight

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for strong language + mentions of combat and injury

Cassian fell into his office chair around 4:30 PM, the force rocking him back a little. He squinted his eyes and pinched his scrunched nose between his thumb and forefinger as he willed this Cauldron-foresaken day to end.

It had been a long day of strategy meetings, supplemental trainings, drills, and checkrides. He had a rather uncomfortable conversation with a cocky little shit of a pilot, who carried himself as if the other members of his flight were there to provide a backdrop for his greatness. Overall, his flight team was skilled, dedicated, and they treated him with so much respect that it surprised him at times. Not that he wasn’t deserving of that respect, having risen through the ranks with impressive speed since joining the military as an airman all those years ago.

According to his superior officers, he was one of the finest pilots for generations, and he had shown a natural ability for leadership as early as basic training. He was dedicated to being fair, set high standards for the members of his flight, and considered their input as frequently as he could. In return, they made his job somewhat easier by executing his orders flawlessly and in a timely manner. Most of the time, anyway.

The loud rumble in his stomach reminded him that he had skipped lunch. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, but he tried not to lament over small things considering they were at war. There was never enough time, and he’d adapted over the years to running on very little when necessary. He rubbed his eyes roughly with his palms, blinking against the light coming in from the window and looked to see what tasks remained for the day. Nothing that couldn’t wait for Monday.

He grabbed his jacket and aviator sunglasses as he stood, put them on, and walked out of his small office a little early.

“Would you like me to forward your calls, Captain Mortel?”

“You know me well, Nuala,” he said with quick wink. “You wouldn’t happen to know if Captain Spion is back, would you?”

  
”He’s gone for the day,” a deep voice called from several office spaces down the hall.

  
“Never mind. That answers my question,” he chuckled. “Have a good weekend.”

”You too, Captain,” she said with a small smile.

  
He walked the several paces down the hallway to Azriel’s office, hoping to drag him out early along with him. He leaned in the doorway, offering a small knock on the door jamb with his knuckle. Azriel looked up from his desk, leaned back, and ran his hands down his face.

  
“You look like you had the same day I had,” Cassian said through a laugh.

Azriel gave an ironic-sounding laugh in return. “Was your day a complete shit show? Because if so, you would be correct.”

”Almost makes me miss the days where all I had to worry about was my own plane and my checkrides,” he replied wistfully.

”Don’t pretend you worried about your scores. False humility doesn’t suit you.” Azriel stood from his desk to gather his things.

Cassian laughed, the sound echoing through the hallway. “I seem to remember you doing okay for yourself, too.”

  
It was true. They were almost terrifying as members of the same flight, and they regularly set the bar for the rest of the pilots. Both of them extended their help wherever the could, aiming to improve their fellow airmen’s performances in everything from confidence to specific maneuvers. When they’d each climbed the ranks to Captain, it was almost poetic that they became flight commanders within the same squadron.

They walked out of the building together, discussing where and when they were going to meet up to drown this day in whiskey. They decided they would meet at the bar after they both showered and ate dinner. Speaking of which, he realized he had almost nothing in his apartment for food. He decided to go by the commissary to grab a few things to cook, hoping that maybe he was early enough to get in and out quickly.

The gods had mercy on him, and he found himself standing in the short checkout line within minutes. He zoned out while he waited, his gaze fixed toward the commissary doors as he daydreamed. His thoughts were interrupted as a familiar head of golden brown hair entered his line of sight.

Nesta Archeron, a brilliant intelligence officer who he had the frequent pleasure of running into on base. His first encounters with her were short, mere introductions before she shared relevant information to his superior officers. He had served as a liaison as well, traveling to her building to make requests or gather information on behalf of his Commander.

They started to share pleasantries when they would run into each other, asking benign questions about each others’ days or commenting on things around base. She was stunning, her features elegant and soft. And those eyes. They seemed to cut through him like no one else’s ever had. He’d basically word-vomited the fact that she was beautiful one day and asked her out for dinner. She’d chuckled and tapped him on the top of his shoulder with a cupped hand before stating, “That’s not a good idea, Captain.” Then, she had just walked away.

Not that he had certain expectations, but he was always a little perturbed by her sheer indifference anytime they spoke. He hadn’t changed how he interacted with her after she shut him down, not wanting her to think his kindness hadn’t been genuine, but it wore on him that she never seemed to drop her mask of politeness. Quite honestly, he was used to people liking him pretty readily, his charm and warm demeanor immediately putting them at ease. Nesta Archeron was not most people, though. That was probably the reason, he mused, that he’d been thinking about her basically every godsdamned free minute he had in the day. She was an enigma, and he felt compelled to figure her out.

——

  
He was on his second whiskey, listening to the band that was playing and making idle conversation with Azriel. He noticed a group of women nearby who kept looking over at them, and a drink appeared in front of Az minutes later. He chuckled, leaning in to Azriel to taunt him a little, but the words died on his tongue.

Walking in across the bar was none other than Nesta. She was in a short-sleeved red dress that kicked out just a little at the waist, falling at her knees. Her hair was in a low chignon, curls pinned around her face and a delicate comb tucked in close to the bun. She was smiling, speaking to an incredibly petite woman with short, dark hair. He recognized her from the intelligence office; Amren, he believed.

His mouth dried up as his eyes trailed Nesta’s long legs, landing on the pair of black pumps she wore on her feet. He tried, and probably failed, to be subtle in looking at her, but the red lipstick that graced her lips was killing him. He was so jealous of that stupid fucking lipstick.

“You should go talk to her,” Azriel said. He jumped slightly, having almost forgotten he wasn’t alone. Not so subtle, obviously.

Cassian shook his head and cleared his throat. “I’m good. You don’t have to babysit, you know. I think you owe someone a ‘thank you’ dance for the drink,” he deflected.

Az gave him a small, sideways smile. He was almost bashful when this sort of thing happened to him, which was a lot, now that Cassian thought about it. His knew his eyes were already searching for Nesta against his will, and he decided that maybe he should give up trying to ignore her.

  
“Tell you what. You go say your thanks, and I’ll go ask Archeron to dance with me.”

”Easy for you to say. You know her already.”

”Exactly. Which means that I know I’ll likely get shut down. I’m doing this for you, brother.”

”How noble of you,” Azriel said, as he knocked back the rest of his whiskey and rose to his feet.

  
——

  
It took him a third whiskey and several more minutes to even consider standing up to find Nesta. He knew Azriel would never let him live it down if he didn’t go over there, but he took his time deciding if his pride would better survive Azriel’s eternal taunts or Nesta’s rejection.

_You are a fucking pilot and flight commander who has to lead dozens of men every day. You can handle asking a woman to dance with you. Go talk to her, you idiot._

Turns out, his inner monologue was kind of a dick.

He rose to his feet, scanning the room until his eyes landed on her. She was sitting at a table with Amren and several other women, a glass of neat whiskey in front of her. He felt that summed her up pretty readily; a glass of whiskey among glasses of sugary white wine.

Good thing he liked whiskey.

  
He mastered himself enough to walk over and silently cursed the short curls at the top of his head for falling against his brow. He didn’t like the look of a buzz cut, but he also didn’t love that the curls on the top of his head had a mind of their own most of the time. Her eyes fell to his as he approached, and she him offered a small smile.

  
“Captain Mortel. To what do I owe the pleasure outside of work hours?” she teased. Whiskey agreed with her, he thought. Her friends fell silent at their exchange, watching with rapt attention.

“Cassian, ma’am,” he corrected with a small smile. The formality of her address irritated him.

He looked around the table, offering a broad, genuine smile. “I apologize for interrupting, ladies. I have some critical information to share with Miss Archeron. That is, if you all are willing to spare her.” His eyes flitted to hers. She may have been immune to his charms, but it didn’t seem like that applied to her friends as they adamantly insisted they didn’t mind. They all but hauled her to her feet, Amren offering a subtle push at her lower back.

“Lead the way, Cassian.” The way she said his first name was so intentional that he wanted to roll his eyes, but he was distracted by his thoughts of other ways he’d like to hear her saying his name.

“I think it’s best discussed on the dance floor, Miss Archeron.” He had one arm bent behind him, resting on the small of his back, the other extended to her, palm up.

She took his hand heavily, showing him she knew exactly what he was up to. She followed nonetheless, and once they reached their destination, he gently placed her hand on his shoulder. He placed his large hand on her waist, and lifted the other in his as he lead them across the floor.

  
“Nesta,” she said, still looking over his shoulder.

“Pardon?”

”Call me Nesta.” Her steel blue eyes met is, and he swore he saw them soften a fraction. “So, what is so important that it couldn’t wait for Monday?”

“Ah. That. Well, truth be told, I didn’t have anything all that critical to tell you,” he paused, laughing softly when she looked at him with an expression that said, _no shit_.

”I hope you’ll forgive me. It just didn’t seem suitable to wait for Monday to tell you how devastating you look tonight. It’s hardly appropriate workplace conversation.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” There was no irritation in her voice, nor did she move away from him.

“So I’ve been told.”

He pulled her a fraction closer, and she let him.

  
——

  
They’d swayed together for song after song that night, taking short breaks at a small take next to the dance floor. They were talking about anything and everything, their laughter carrying through the small venue when there was a break between songs. At some point, they had started sharing one glass of whiskey rather than opting for two.

Cassian knew he was totally and royally fucked.

  
He walked her out later that night when her group of friends started to tire out. He stopped just outside the doors, and her friends walked slowly ahead, allowing them some privacy. He curled his index finger under her chin, and eased her face upward to look at him. His other arm was secure behind his back; the only place he trusted it to be.

  
”I had a lot of fun. Be careful going home, yeah?” He kept his voice soft, not wanting to risk her becoming shy at the thought of her friends overhearing them.

She bit her bottom lip as she looked at him, giving him a small nod.

“I had fun, too,” she breathed. The corners of her lips drew up slightly, retrained by the secure pressure her teeth had on her lower lip yet again. She might have been the death of him.

Before he could think better of it, he raised his thumb to stroke her cheek and had to clench his other fist when she leaned into his hand to keep from pulling her to him. He swallowed thickly, hoping his voice would come out more stable than he felt.

“Goodnight, Nesta.”

”Goodnight, Cassian.” She turned her face, placing a soft kiss to the tender part of his palm at the base of his thumb before she turned to leave.

  
She left him standing there, dumbfounded and grinning like a fool. He looked down at his palm, the soft lip print left by her red lips, and closed his fist before he walked inside to find Azriel.

  
——

  
In the days that followed, nothing changed. He remained insanely busy each day and saw Nesta minimally. He wished there were more reasons for him to travel to her office and visa versa, but he had likely exhausted his fill of luck on that Friday night.

  
His world turned on its head on Wednesday as the alarm sounded. There were no scheduled drills that he was aware of, and his heart leapt into his throat. He saw Azriel running into the hangar from another direction, his eyes locking on Cassian’s. They approached each other, their postures already morphing into the leaders they were called to be. It was Azriel who spoke first.

“Incoming air attack. Just got word from the Commander.”

”Shit. Okay. Let’s fucking do this, huh?” He was trying to keep his tone light enough without downplaying the magnitude of their situation.

“Not like we have much of a choice. Stay safe, brother.” He gripped Cassian in a hug, patting him roughly on the back. Cassian returned it quickly and broke away.

“Stop saying your goodbyes, Spion,” he said as he broke into a backward jog toward his flight team. He raised his voice to finish, “They chose the wrong fucking base!”

  
——

  
Cassian awoke to a blinding pain in his head and a high-pitched beeping sound coming from his left. He kept his eyes firmly shut, trying for the life of him to figure out where he was and why he was in so much pain. He creased his brow as he concentrated, only able to conjure snapshots of the events that led him here.

  
Take off.

Giving orders to his flight team.

Circling back for an aircraft in pursuit of one of his airmen.

Shots fired, bullets flying. Explosions as they met their mark.

Another loud explosion, an aggressive shift of his plane.

Losing an engine.

Bailing out.

  
Everything was blank after that, until right now, where that obnoxious fucking beeping was going to make him violent. If he was dead, he was surely in hell.

He opened his eyes, squinting against the faint light overhead. He turned his head slowly, fighting a groan at the pain that shot through his temples. His mouth was dry as shit, and he needed to find some water stat.

His eyes snagged on something foreign next to his hand. He lowered his chin to look at it properly, and as his eyes adjusted, he realized he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t a something, it was a some _one_.

That same damn head of golden brown hair that had been haunting him for months was on the edge of the mattress, resting on her bent arm. She was sitting in a chair, bent over to rest her head on his bed, and her other arm was extended, resting just above his knee. Her face was softer while she slept, he thought. He looked at her for a few seconds, not wanting to disturb her slumber, and realized he couldn’t give a shit less about that beeping sound all of a sudden. Nesta fucking Archeron was here.

Okay, so definitely not in hell, then.

He looked down, realizing his chest was bare save for the rolls of gauze and bandages wrapped around him. He had no clue what that was about, but he figured someone would tell him eventually. He noticed bruises and scrapes on almost every exposed part of his body and a cast on his right ankle. As far as he could tell, he still had all of his limbs and could wiggle his toes. He decided he was grateful, even if everything hurt like fuck.

  
His movements must have roused her, because Nesta’s eyes suddenly opened. She sat up and rubbed them before turning them to Cassian in assessment. She started at his legs, running her gaze over him, and over to his monitor. Her eyes snapped to his own once she realized he was awake.

  
”You’re awake!” The relief in her voice broke his heart. She gripped his hand with both of hers, careful not to disturb him too much.

”Yeah,” he croaked, his voice ragged from disuse. She pulled one of her hands away, grabbed the small styrofoam cup on the side table, and handed it to him. He grabbed it with his opposite hand, cringing a little at the pain in his chest as he reached across his body. He brought the cup to his lips, leaving his eyes on hers as he sipped. She took it from him as he lowered his head back down to his pillow.

“Your parachute deployed, but it got tangled while you were still in the air. Luckily it eventually opened, but you were already fairly close to the ground. Your ankle is broken and you have several broken ribs. They aren’t sure what you hit, but you sustained impact to your head at some point. Be careful if you touch your face… there are some stitches on your forehead and through your eyebrow.” He honestly would have been okay with a few more injuries on the list if it meant she would keep talking to him like this; with a gentleness and care he had never seen. He rolled his head toward her to look at her properly, and noticed tears running down her cheeks.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’ll take a lot more than that to keep me from sticking around and annoying the hell out of you,” he joked.

“That’s not funny, Cassian!” She clutched his hand in warning. “I listened to the radio all day. I found out through communications that your plane went down.” Her tears were rolling in earnest now.

  
He was such an ass. Why the hell did he insist on putting his foot in his mouth?

  
”I’m sorry. Really, Nesta, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. I’m okay.” He squeezed her hand, wishing he could pull her into his chest to comfort her.

Her tears continued despite his request. “I didn’t know what to do, what to think. I couldn’t get clear answers from anyone about your status for hours. It was a nightmare, and for a second, I thought…. I don’t know. Worst case scenario, is what I thought. **I almost lost you**.”

  
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make sense of what she was telling him. He started rubbing soothing circles on the back of her palm before he spoke.

“I’m not going anywhe—“ He was interrupted by a sudden coughing fit, all thanks to his dry fucking throat. Beautiful timing. Excellent. Perfect.

  
He groaned between coughs as he felt the sudden pain wrack through his ribs. It was as if someone was taking each one and snapping them over their knee like small tree branches. He couldn’t get his throat to cooperate, sending his chest into contraction after contraction. He started clutching for his chest, grimacing, and trying to do anything possible to calm his reflexes down.

Nesta jumped from her chair, perching on the edge of his bed. She gripped his face gently with her hands, willing him to look at her. Once he did, she encouraged him to relax, and grabbed his water cup to hold it to his lips. He managed to hold back his cough long enough to take a couple of sips, and he was finally able to relax into the bed again, breathing through clenched teeth.

She brushed his curly hair to the side in a soothing gesture, trying to tame the wild strands somewhat in the process. She spoke to him in a soothing voice, hoping to keep him as calm as he could manage.

  
“You have beautiful hair. I know women who would kill for it,” she mused.

He huffed a laugh. “Has a mind of its own.”

”Seems true to form, considering the head it grows from.” She laughed when he glared at her. “I’m serious. You should grow it out one day. Just to see its potential.”

”Mmm… I’ll think about it. I think I could try it out for you,” he replied with a smile.

  
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before it occurred to him that the clock read 3:00, and there was no light coming through the window. It was 3AM, and here she was.

  
”I’m surprised they haven’t kicked you out yet with how late it is…. Not that I’m complaining. I want you to stay.” He hoped he hadn’t offended her, but the look on her face showed only amusement. “How’d you manage that?”

She bit her lip in a sheepish gesture, and he had to fight the urge to reach up and release it with his thumb. “When I found out they had located you and were in transport, I ran here immediately. I didn’t have much of a plan. I’m sure I looked like a lunatic to the young nurse’s aid at the station. I asked for you, but she told me that only family could see you,” she trailed off, looking down at the bedsheets. “I was all over the place, and I just blurted it out… that I was your wife.”

  
His eyes had to be the size of saucers. They were fairly familiar with each other through their work, and they’d had that one perfect night at the bar. But he’d never kissed her, nor had he brought her out on an actual date. She was the one who had turned him down, for Cauldron’s sake.

  
He couldn’t hold back his chuckle at her words or the blush that fanned across her cheeks.

  
“How long was I out? We seem to have come a long way,” he teased, hoping to ease her nerves.

”Oh, shut up. To be fair, I have to think on my feet a lot with what I do, and it kind of took me over. I was apparently quite convincing.”

”Didn’t even court me properly,” he mumbled in mock offense, grinning as he shook his head. He promptly stopped when he remembered the headache.

“Alright. You’re hilarious,” she stated dryly. Her voice quieted a bit more as she said, “I know I overstepped. I just wanted you to be okay, and I couldn’t stand not knowing. I’m really sorry.”

”It’s okay, really. You were the perfect thing to wake up to in here. Thank you,” he replied. “I’m honestly just surprised no one fact-checked you.”

”Once I was in here, they kind of just ignored me except for updates. I’ve gotten lucky that no one that would know better has been in here. Well, except Captain Spion, but he’s keeping my secret. He’ll be happy to know you’re okay. He’s been pacing around in here anytime he’s had a free moment and scaring the shit out of all the hospital staff.” She laughed, and he didn’t think he could ever hear enough of it.

“Sounds like Az. I’ll check in tomorrow,” he said. “But hey, before I forget, since we’re married anyway… would you be interested in going out sometime?” He hoped he hadn’t misread this shift between them, but he couldn’t let her leave here without asking.

She sat there for several agonizing seconds before leaning forward and pressing her lips softly to his. When she pulled back, her blue eyes were shining as she said, “Absolutely. I love that idea.”


End file.
